This Was Long Before The

Paris Is Certainly One Of The Most Boastful Of Cities, And You Could Argue That It Has Had A Lot To Boast About: At Various Times The European Centre Of Power, Of Civilisation, Of The Arts, And (self-advertisingly, At Least) Of Love.

Time...give Us Enough Time And Our Best-supported Decisions Will Seem Wobbly, Our Certainties Whimsical.

(on Grief) And You Do Come Out Of It, That’s True. After A Year, After Five. But You Don’t Come Out Of It Like A Train Coming Out Of A Tunnel, Bursting Through The Downs Into Sunshine And That Swift, Rattling Descent To The Channel; You Come Out Of It As A Gull Comes Out Of An Oil-slick. You Are Tarred And Feathered For Life.

Some Of The Freckles I Once Loved Are Now Closer To Liver Spots. But It’s Still The Eyes We Look At, Isn’t It? That’s Where We Found The Other Person, And Find Them Still.

And That's A Life, Isn't It? Some Achievements And Some Disappointments. It's Been Interesting To Me, Though I Wouldn't Complain Or Be Amazed If Others Found It Less So. Maybe, In A Way, Adrian Knew What He Was Doing. Not That I Would Have Missed My Own Life For Anything, You Understand. [pp.60-61]